


A Puppet In Someone Else's Game

by A_dot_BUDDY



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aaron Burr Being an Asshole, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Betrayal, Disappearances, Established Relationship, F/M, Guns, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, M/M, Mind Control, Not extremely graphic but they are there, Prisoner of War, Revolutionary War, Sad Thomas Jefferson, Soldier John Laurens, Sort Of, Spies & Secret Agents, Undercover, although that's just my opinion, and a lot of it, but not the magic kind, descriptions of violence, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:28:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28653516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_dot_BUDDY/pseuds/A_dot_BUDDY
Summary: When Alex is sent to an experimental mind control camp, will he keep his revolutionary beliefs and rise up? Or will he switch sides in the war and betray everyone he's ever loved?“Until you realize how easy it is for your mind to be manipulated, you remain the puppet of someone else's game.”― Evita Ochel
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, George III of the United Kingdom/Samuel Seabury, Thomas Jefferson/James Madison
Kudos: 14





	1. Let's Steal Their Cannons!

**Author's Note:**

> 2:41-8:29, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNXip5RTYb8  
> If you want to see what the brainwashing/mind control I'll be writing about is LOOSELY based off of, you can check out that segment of the video.
> 
> Also I'm bad at writing summaries, but the plot is gonna be more complex than what the summary makes it seem like.

When Alex had accepted a position as Washington’s aid, he hadn’t realized how incredibly boring and frustrating it was going to be. Sure, he was always one of the first to know when anything important happened, but that fact was heavily overshadowed by the fact that he never got to do anything about it. Instead, he constantly had to stay on base and answer Washington’s correspondances for him, or help to plan out a course of action he wouldn’t get to be a part of.

He believed wholeheartedly that the rebels would win, but he was itching to be a bigger part of it, to have the opportunity to make a name for himself.

When the British had sent troops to quell the revolution, the rebel troops had been forced west, into largely unexplored territory where the British were unlikely to follow. Here, miles away from their home states, revolutionaries flocked to the base, one huge industrial looking building that housed everything necessary for survival. Many were families or refugees, needing to get away from the dangers they were facing at home. A majority were soldiers, willing to put their lives on the line to fight for freedom and justice.

John, his partner, was technically of lower rank than him, not being an officer of any kind. But at least he got to go on missions occasionally. He got to actually carry out actions that would make a difference. And Alex was always sitting on base waiting for him to come back and hoping he wouldn’t get himself killed.

Right now, luckily, John was home. They were walking towards the canteen together for lunch when one of the televisions mounted on the walls of the dim and empty hallways crackled to life. The both of them stopped, attention immediately snapping to the screen, paying careful attention since they never turned on except to display information relevant to the war.

A news station logo flashed across the screen before a woman with a chirping British accent began to speak enthusiastically into a microphone, “Exciting news in England today as King George the Third gets married on the grounds of Buckingham Palace! Our king is making great strides for the LGBT community by going down in history as England’s first king to marry a man!”

“Sure, but he’s also going down in history as a tyrannous dictator, so you win some, you lose some,” Alex commented, glancing over at John. John snorted, but didn’t take his eyes off the tv.

“Who is this lucky man, you might ask?” The camera panned over to show a red haired man the both of them recognized standing next to the king and smiling while the king conversed with some nobleman or other at what was clearly their wedding reception, “None other than Samuel Seabury, a pastor from the colonies!”

“That traitorous bastard!” John exclaimed, expression warping into a glare as he stared at Seabury on the screen.

People had been going missing on missions left and right lately. No one knew what was happening to them, if they were being treated harshly and imprisoned, if they were even still alive. Seabury had been one of those who disappeared, along with Madison, Burr, and countless others. Each had been gone for months now, and the most common theory was that they’d been killed, though of course they hoped otherwise.

And yet there Seabury was, all the way in England somehow, getting fucking married to the king he would have claimed to despise with his whole being just a few short months ago. What had happened to him? And of course that raised the question of what had happened to the others.

Alex opened his mouth to respond, but Jefferson stepped out of a doorway just in time to see the television turn black again as the segment ended. Jefferson’s attention immediately moved to Alex and John. “What’d I miss?” he asked, sounding anxious, but not quite as hopeful as he used to sound.

He and Jefferson weren’t friends by any means, but he did feel sorry for the guy. A month ago, Jefferson and Madison had been practically joined at the hip. You never got one without the other. But then the two of them had gone on a mission together and only one had come back. These days, Jefferson cut a lonely figure wandering the halls by himself, off duty for his mental health after Madison’s disappearance. He watched the tv’s in the hallways almost obsessively in case anything played was relevant to where Madison could be. Alex couldn’t blame him. He’d be doing the same thing if it was John who had disappeared.

“They found Seabury. He’s marrying the king, apparently,” Alex replied, fuming a bit himself. He didn’t know if Seabury had been forced into this or if he was doing it of his own volition, but he was furious either way.

“Marrying…” Jefferson’s face furrowed up in disbelief, the anxiety in his expression not fading in the slightest, “But what does that mean for-”

“The others?” Alex interrupted, correctly guessing that Jefferson’s mind would have jumped straight to Madison, “I have no idea. Either Seabury’s completely lost it, or the king’s forced him into this. Either way, it doesn’t really help us figure out how he’s treating the others.”

Jefferson just nodded and slipped back into the room he’d come out of silently. Alex was still getting used to interactions with Jefferson that didn’t involve getting into heated arguments with probably unnecessary amounts of aggression. But ever since Madison had disappeared, he’d been quiet and almost submissive, stuck inside his head most of the time. He was oddly polite and would back out of arguments when they’d hardly even had the chance to disagree yet. Alex frankly hated it.

“If the king managed to get Seabury on his side, do you think he’s trying to do the same with the others?” John asked, saving the question for when Jefferson was out of earshot.

“I don’t see how he could,” Alex replied. Seabury wasn’t exactly the most committed to the cause, even from the very beginning, so it made a certain sense that he’d be the fastest to betray them, “But don’t you think if he’d succeeded at something like that, he’d be broadcasting the turncoats to the world? It would definitely hurt our morale.”

“True,” John agreed, shrugging. He grabbed Alex’s hand and started pulling him in the direction of the canteen, since they’d gotten a little distracted from their destination by the television turning on, “But maybe he’s trying and just hasn’t succeeded yet?”

“Maybe,” Alex agreed, following along after John, only letting go of his hand when they got into the food line. Food was served buffet style, but nothing ever looked particularly appetizing, being optimized for nutrition rather than taste, due to their limited resources, “It kills me that there’s no way to know what happened to them.”

He wasn’t the best of friends with anyone who had disappeared, but it bothered him that the disappearances were happening at all. 

“I know. But we’ll figure it out and we’ll bring them back,” John told him. Alex smiled at him, since he knew he was trying to be comforting, but he knew that John really couldn’t be certain of that.

“I wish I could at least do something useful,” Alex complained, not for the first time. John was often subjected to his lamenting about how he never got to do anything he felt was important. John sighed as they both grabbed trays and filled them with food.

“Alex, you do important work on base. Washington wouldn’t bother keeping you here if you didn’t,” John said, following the usual script of these conversations as they brought their trays to one of the long metal tables, sitting across from each other. There were some others at their table as well, but they were a group of soldiers mostly involved in their own conversation.

“Not as important as you, or anyone else who gets to actually carry out missions,” Alex grumbled, stabbing a glob of what looked to be mashed potatoes with his fork.

“You’re just as important to the cause, if not more so. You help give the orders that we carry out,” John pointed out, starting to eat his own food much more efficiently than Alex. 

Alex was glumly moving the food around his plate when he suddenly had an idea. He dropped his fork and looked up at John with an excited expression on his face. “Let’s steal their bombs!” he blurted.

John just snorted, clearing not taking him seriously, “Sure, good one.”

“No, really!” he said, probably slightly too loud. When one of the other soldiers glanced up, he scooted further down the table to be out of earshot before repeating in a more hushed tone, “Let’s steal their bombs.”

John scooted down as well in order to stay opposite him, expression much more concerned now that he saw Alex was actually serious, “Alex, that’s insane.”

“Is it though? If we had their bombs, the redcoats' main threat over us would be gone.”

Washington had received word months ago that the British were claiming to have bombs trained on their exact location that they would use if the rebels didn’t stand down. Rebel spies had laid eyes on these bombs, so they knew they did in fact exist. But the base was well hidden and Washington was confident that the British didn’t have their location. This assumption was proven most likely correct when the British never actually followed through with their threat.

The general assumption was that the bombs wouldn’t be used anytime soon, if at all, but it didn’t stop the nervous energy from hanging over the base at the thought that there was even a possibility they could be. If they stole the bombs, the base could be at ease with the knowledge that they were safe.

“Washington will never agree to that, it’s too high risk of a mission. Do you know how big bombs are? We would have to somehow remove them from a heavily guarded area when they’re too big for even a whole team of us to carry,” John protested.

“So we don’t tell Washington. And we borrow a helicopter,” Alex said simply. It made sense to him. Their helicopters had the capability of carrying heavy items if they were clipped to the bottom.

“Can you fly a helicopter, Alexander? Because I sure can’t,” the way John was looking at him, he must think Alex was losing his mind.

“We can ask Peggy to fly it for us, she’d do it,” Alex suggested. Peggy was a pilot and was largely involved in the rebel army’s air related missions.

“Maybe she would, but Angelica would kill us for involving her in an unapproved mission,” John pointed out. Angelica was John’s commanding officer as well as Peggy’s sister, so it was understandable that he wouldn’t want to upset her like this.

“Involve me in what unapproved mission?” Alex smiled as Peggy dropped her tray onto the table and slid onto the bench next to John. 

“Alex thinks we should try to steal the British bombs. He wants to get you to fly the helicopter for us,” John made it clear just with his tone what a bad idea he thought this was. Unluckily for John, Peggy actually seemed intrigued, asking Alex for more information.

Things moved quickly after that first conversation. John wanted nothing to do with it at first, but when it became clear that Alex was going to go through with it whether or not John participated, he eventually decided he couldn’t leave Alex to do it alone. Peggy agreed enthusiastically to pilot for them.

A few days later, they’d planned as much as they felt they could plan. The three of them waited until after dark when none of the helicopters were being used and a majority of the base was asleep. John was dressed in his uniform and Alex was borrowing his spare one, not wanting to be mistaken as a civilian in his casual clothes, but also not wanting to wear his own mostly decorative aid uniform. 

The three of them snuck to the base’s attached heliport, Peggy leading them directly to her helicopter. The three of them slid into the seat and he and John watched as Peggy expertly brought the machine to life and up into the air. 

“You’ve got the coordinates?” Peggy asked and Alex nodded. He had access to all the same information as Washington so it hadn’t been particularly difficult to find them.

“Plug them in there,” Peggy told him, gesturing towards a screen with an attached keypad, evidently a GPS of some sort. Alex followed her instructions and then all that was left was to wait for them to arrive. 

Alex could hardly sit still, practically vibrating with nerves and excitement. At one point, John placed his hand on Alex’s knee to stop it from bouncing all over the place. To some extent, the contact helped him to calm down, but this was his first time actively going out into the field. He couldn’t be completely calm about it. The journey could’ve taken minutes or days, though in reality it was probably an hour or so. Time didn’t feel real inside the small compartment, dividing his attention between watching Peggy steer with a practiced ease and leaning comfortably into John.

“We’re almost there. Get ready,” Peggy said eventually. This was going to be the hard part. They were going to have to get down out of the helicopter and attach the bombs before Peggy could fly away. John reached under the seat and pulled out a couple of guns, handing one to Alex. Alex could handle a gun, but only because everyone at the base was required to learn to use one in case of emergency. John handed him some bullets a moment later and Alex fumbled through loading the gun, ignoring how easily John seemed to complete the same task beside him.

Peggy began lowering the helicopter over what Alex could see was a fenced in enclosure. There were two large capsules laid out horizontally, which Alex took to be the bombs. There were no redcoats directly near them, but there were redcoats swarming out of a nearby building, clearly having been alerted to their presence. Peggy opened the door of the helicopter with the touch of a button and John looked over the side down at the redcoats.

“This is a suicide mission,” he said, as if the idea was just occurring to him. But Alex was paying no attention to what he was saying. He just grabbed the rope attached to the inside of the helicopter and gave John a quick kiss on the cheek before using it to rappel himself down to the ground, leaving John no choice but to follow.

It was pure luck that stopped the both of them from getting shot before they even reached the ground. As previously agreed, Alex began attaching the bombs to the claw like device that dropped down from the bottom of the helicopter while John covered his back, since John had the most experience with a gun of the two of them.

He had just barely tied one of the bombs on when he heard John cry out and whirled around. John had dropped his gun and had one hand clamped against his neck, blood leaking out between his fingers, eyes full of fear. Alex watched in a frozen panic as John dropped to his knees.

He had no time to even react before he suddenly felt a burning pain in his chest and his limbs began to feel heavy. He dropped his gun and the rope he was using, falling backwards when his eyelids started suddenly drooping shut and he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. The last thing he saw before his eyes fell shut was the helicopter flying away, only one of the two bombs attached.

It took great effort for him to open his eyes. The first thing he noticed when he did was the uncomfortably bright lighting in the room. It felt like the light was searing into his eyes, so he went to raise his hands to shield them. That was when he noticed the handcuffs restricting his movements. 

He sat there in utter confusion for a moment, wondering how he’d come to be handcuffed to a metal table, bright lights shining on him. Then his eyes landed on a woman standing in the corner of the room. She was tall and dark skinned, with a head full of curly hair. But most notably, she was dressed in a redcoat uniform, standing and staring ahead in a stiff way that reminded him of what he’d heard of the guards at Buckingham Palace.

Suddenly the memories of what had happened came flooding back and he found himself panicking, unable to breathe properly. He’d forced John into something he didn’t even want to do, a ‘suicide mission’ was what he’d called it. He’d only come along because he hadn’t wanted to leave Alex to do it alone. And John had gotten shot right in front of him. Alex had been shot too, he remembered suddenly. He could feel bandages under his clothes and the dull ache where the wound must be. And yet he was the one to survive while John was probably dead.

“Where am I?” he asked, not bothering to keep the desperation out of his voice.

The woman seemed to notice him for the first time, glancing over when she heard his voice and noticed his erratic breathing. She gave him a vaguely sympathetic look, but still didn’t address him, instead turning to press a button on the wall behind her.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, trying to focus on the situation in front of him and leave the dwelling on what had happened until a better time.

She didn’t answer, just turning back around to stand facing him again, face carefully blank. He was about to ask her more questions, or perhaps just yell at her if she still refused to speak, but then the door swung open and Alex whipped his head around to see who walked in.

“Burr?!” All Alex could do was stare when he saw who it was at the door. 

He remembered joining the rebels shortly after Burr did, hearing about his reputation before he even met the man. He was a known prodigy, rising through the ranks at a rapid pace, though he never managed to get Washington’s favor. Still, Alex had looked up to him when he first joined up. He remembered Burr buying him a drink and giving him advice, advice that Alex hadn’t been willing to follow, but certainly nothing that would lead Alex to think Burr was disloyal. They hadn’t been friends exactly, but they’d been friendly at least, and they had been working towards the same goal of freedom for their people. 

But now Burr stood in front of him looking prim and proper in the bright red uniform of the British. He didn’t look like he’d been forced into this or coerced, he looked to be in full health without a trace of distress on his face. The only emotion he displayed was a sardonic smile as he observed Alex’s clear emotional turmoil. In the end, the emotion Alex settled on was rage.

“It’s good to see you again, Alexander.”


	2. The World Turned Upside Down

“How could you? How-” Alex was so angry he could hardly speak, the unbothered look on Burr’s face not at all helping to calm him down, “How can you look at yourself in the mirror? You defected to the British? Are you serious? Why? What, you couldn’t get Washington’s attention so you acted like a jealous little pissbaby and betrayed us all? You are actively working for the people we have sacrificed everything to rebel against! You’ve seen the destruction they brought to the colonies, you can’t seriously be okay with working for them! And- and I got shot, and I watched John get shot, and you’re just-”

“Alexander!” Burr cut in to interrupt him, having been apparently content to let Alex rant until that moment. It was honestly probably a good thing he’d cut Alex off, as his rant had been getting less and less controlled and more and more emotional the longer he went on, “I think it’s a bit dramatic to say you were ‘shot’. Those were tranquilizers.”

“..So John..” Alex hardly dared to hope that he was okay.

“Is fine,” Burr finished his sentence for him. Alex slumped forward over the table in sheer relief, not looking up so as not to betray any of the emotions he felt. He slowly sat up again once he’d collected himself a few moments later.

“Did you really think you’d be that comfortable sitting upright in a metal chair if you’d been shot?” Burr asked skeptically, having politely waited for Alex to collect himself before speaking again. 

“I could’ve been out long enough to heal somewhat,” Alex shot back, although he knew that was unlikely, knowing the sheer length of time it took gunshot wounds to heal. He just didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t been thinking clearly enough in his original assessment of the situation.

Burr shrugged, “To be fair, you were out long enough to be transported here.”

“And where is here?” Alex demanded, realizing belatedly that that should have been one of the first things he asked.

“You’re in England, but I can’t tell you much more than that,” Burr replied, sounding genuinely apologetic that he couldn’t tell him more.

“England?!” Alex echoed, before shaking his head to try and move past the shock, “Is John here? I want to see him.”

“You can see him. After we have a little chat,” Burr pulled out another chair across the table and sat down, looking for all the world like he was prepared to conduct a long interrogation.

Alex just scoffed, “I’m not telling you shit, Burr. You’re insane.”

“You don’t have to,” Burr told him, a small amused smile on his face. Alex just raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“I’m just here to lay out the rules and provide you with information,” the same smile remained on his face. Alex sort of wanted to punch it off of him.

“I’m a prisoner of war. You want me to do hard labor and keep my mouth shut and not make trouble,” Alex said, beating him to the chase.

“Not exactly. Sure, you’re technically a prisoner in the sense that you can’t leave. But you’ll find you’ll be treated very reasonably here. Three square meals a day, a warm bed, compassionate officers,” Burr told him patiently.

“Sure,” Alex said skeptically. Of course he didn’t believe the British would treat their rebel prisoners well. They had no reason to.

“All we ask in return is that you help us with a study of sorts. Every so often, I’ll ask a survey question, get some of your opinions. We can do one right now if you’d like to get a sense of what you’re in for?” Burr’s calm demeanor was really getting on Alex’s nerves.

“I'm sure you can guess my opinions. Besides, I’m not fucking talking to you,” he stated simply.

“You can conduct your survey with a different officer,” Burr suggested, apparently unphased.

“I’m not fucking talking to any of you,” Alex replied.

“Alright. In that case, I’d like to reiterate that you will be treated with respect and decency. You have no reason to fear,” Burr told him. Alex just scoffed, not appreciating being talked down to like a child.

“Officer Prevost will show you to your accommodations,” Burr added, getting up to leave when all Alex did was continue to glare at him.

Alex hadn’t even known who Officer Prevost was until the officer who’d been watching from her position by the door stepped forward.

Alex automatically flinched back when she walked around the table, getting far too close, at least by his standards. Though all she did was pull out a set of keys and unlock the cuffs chaining him to the table.

“You know, I could attack you and run off,” Alex pointed out, lifting his hands up and massaging some of the feeling back into his wrists.

“You wouldn’t make it far,” Prevost pointed out, “I can always put them back on if you want though.” She dangled the cuffs in front of him.

“No, I think I’m good,” Alex replied. He knew she was right about him not being able to make it far. He was in the middle of what was probably a very heavily guarded enemy camp, and he didn’t even know where he was besides the general knowledge that he was in England. But that wasn’t exactly helpful. 

Prevost just snorted in response and tucked the cuffs into a pocket in her coat, “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

She turned around and started walking out the door, apparently trusting Alex to just follow her. Which he did, because he didn’t exactly have many other options. “Is John here?” he asked. He knew Burr had said he could see him, but Alex didn’t trust him to have actually meant that. He could’ve been just saying it to get Alex to talk to him.

“John…” Prevost echoed.

“Laurens,” he supplied promptly.

“Yes, I believe so,” she told him.

“Where are we going?” he asked, trailing along behind her in the hallway. ‘I believe so’ wasn’t ‘definitely’ so he was still trying not to get his hopes up.

“We have a few communal rooms that a majority of the guests sleep in,” Prevost answered shortly.

“You mean prisoners?” he asked, somewhat ironically.

“Semantics,” she said, though her mouth was twisted into a wry smile. 

Alex didn’t get a chance to say anything in return, since Prevost had pushed open a set of double doors, revealing a much busier hallway than the empty one they’d been walking down previously. This one had redcoats and prisoners in it together, all seemingly going about separate business and comfortable being around each other. Assuming those not in uniform actually were prisoners, considering they all seemed at ease and in perfect health.

His eyes were particularly drawn to the sheets of notebook paper almost completely covering the walls. Some of the prisoners in the hallway were tearing down sheets or hanging up new ones, disappearing through doors equally as papered once they were finished. Some of the sheets were completely filled and some had only a sentence or two, but without exception, all of them were signed.

“What are all these?” he asked Prevost, having to jog slightly to catch up with her after having slowed momentarily to take in what he was seeing.

“The surveys Officer Burr mentioned. Would you like to look at a few?” she asked, stopping at a seemingly random spot near a paper covered wall without actually waiting for an answer. Alex followed her and stepped close enough to the wall to actually read some of the pages.

The first thing his eyes landed on was a bullet list. A few of the bullet points were dedicated to how tyrannous Britain was, how violent, how controlling. Exactly what you’d expect from a rebel soldier asked to give their opinion on the British government. A little further down the list the writer turned to writing things about how the rebel prisoners were treated fairly, the British treated their people well, and other generally loyalist sentiments. Signed by someone who was apparently a rebel prisoner. He moved to some of the papers that seemed to be in more of an essay format. These seemed to be more openly pro-British, and even directly anti-American in several cases. 

Out of curiosity, he started scanning the names signed, wanting to see if he’d recognize any. Some seemed vaguely familiar, some he didn’t recognize at all. Until he spotted one name that was incredibly familiar, signed at the bottom of one of the lengthier essays.

“James Madison is here?” he asked, turning to Prevost.

“So it seems,” she replied nonchalantly, following his gaze. Jefferson would be glad to know he was alive at least, if there was ever a way to get that information back to him, “Are you finished here?”

Alex nodded, falling into step with her again. The anticipation was growing in him as he realized that he was potentially about to see John again, to see with his own eyes that he was okay.

“Here we are,” said Prevost, pushing open another set of double doors.

Beyond the doors was a large room, about the size of the canteen back at the base. There were rows of twin beds in columns and it was filled with people, many of which he vaguely recognized, talking to each other, or sitting on the beds, some even with books or pens and pencils to occupy themselves with. 

“Find an open bed, settle in,” Prevost told him, and Alex stepped inside. He turned around to address her, but she was already shutting the doors behind her. Out of curiosity, he pulled on one of the doors to see if it was locked. Oddly enough, it wasn’t.

Before he could really think about what that meant, someone barreled into his side, a pair of arms wrapping around him. He froze in momentary panic before he registered the head of messy curls he would recognize anywhere. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in his hair.

“You’re alive,” he said, immensely relieved. It had taken laying eyes on John himself for him to fully believe it.

“So are you,” John said, pulling back enough to beam at him.

His eyes landed on the bandage on John’s neck, and all at once, Alex was hit with the guilt he’d been repressing. He’d gotten them into this situation, jumped recklessly into danger, leaving John no choice but to follow. If those had been real bullets, the both of them would have been dead. As it was, they’d been taken captive by the enemy, which was hardly any better.

“God, John, I’m so sorry,” Alex blurted out, looking away.

“None of that,” John told him seriously, moving to cup his face in his hands so Alex had to look at him, “You did something stupid, but I helped you do it and I went along with it. It went wrong, but we’re both alive and we’re both going to get out of this. Alright?”

“Alright,” Alex said weakly. He still thought it was his fault- no, he knew it was. But he didn’t want to argue with John about it.

“Good,” a small smile appeared on John’s face and he leaned forward to place a kiss on Alex’s lips, ignoring the fact that they were very much not alone. 

Alex pulled back when he heard a pointed clearing of the throat from a few feet away from them, looking for the source of the sound.

“Madison?” John said, sounding surprised, hands dropping from Alex’s face. He probably hadn’t seen the essay Madison had signed on the wall outside, so he wouldn’t have known he was here.

“Not that this isn’t touching and everything,” Madison seemed a mixture of awkward and confused addressing them, “But what are you two doing here?”

“We got captured, same as you,” Alex said simply, not moving to let go of John.

“Yes, but how? I didn’t think you were supposed to leave base,” he was addressing Alex with that last part. But Alex was hesitant to speak to him or trust him too much after seeing his strongly pro-British essay posted up outside. 

“He doesn’t normally. But we tried to steal the British bombs,” John told him easily, not having the same reservations Alex did without knowing about the essay.

“Washington sent you two for that?”

“Not exactly,” Alex admitted. Madison pinched his nose, looking oddly exasperated as he put together that they’d done it without authorization.

“Why am I not surprised?” Madison seemed to be addressing the world at large, and John just shrugged. “How are things at the base, anyways?” Madison asked them.

“Not much has changed. Washington’s still fighting defensively, no major wins or losses. Except for all the people disappearing, but I suppose we know what happened to them now,” John replied.

“And Thomas?” Madison nodded, hardly reacting to John’s answer.

“He’s fine physically, but he took your disappearance pretty hard,” Alex said. Madison just looked solemn and nodded in response.

“Well, you two should find a couple of beds before lights out,” Madison told them, choosing to brush past that topic.

“I still have some questions for you,” Alex insisted.

Madison just shook his head, “You don’t want to have to try and find an unclaimed bed in the dark.” Then he started walking away, presumably in the direction of his own bed. Alex and John looked at each other before following after him, Alex finally letting go of John.

They managed to snag a couple of beds next to each other near where Madison’s bed was, at the back of the room. When Alex got closer, he saw that the beds were very similar to the ones they had at the base in quality, not exactly the peak of luxury, but comfortable enough. There was also a chest at the foot of each bed. Alex opened his chest to inspect the contents, only to find it empty. He just shrugged and let it fall closed again.

“Madison,” Alex said, getting the man’s attention. The man in question had just sat down on his bed and started rummaging through his chest. 

“Yes?” he replied. They didn’t have to raise their voices much since their beds were fairly close.

“What’s the deal with those surveys?” He wanted an explanation for all the loyalist papers all over the walls, written by the prisoners themselves.

“Oh, the more of those you do, the more privileges you get,” Madison explained. He pulled a book out of his chest and held it up, “I got this after my last one.” Madison had written an entire treasonous essay just to get a book?

“Did you do a survey?” he asked John, remembering how Burr had asked him to do one.

“They asked me, but I told them to fuck off,” John replied, and Alex snorted at that response. 

“How did Burr become an officer?” Alex asked, facing Madison again.

“Burr’s an officer?” John repeated incredulously. Alex had almost forgotten he wouldn’t already know that, but he nodded.

Madison just shrugged, “They changed his mind. That’s their goal with the surveys.”

“Like their goal is to brainwash us? They’re crazy if they think anything they could do would make any of us willingly leave the rebel cause. It won’t work on us,” John scoffed.

“It worked on Aaron,” Madison replied, shrugging passively.

Alex was about to comment on how little Madison seemed to care about that fact when he heard a voice shout, “Get to your beds, lights out!” Alex looked up just in time to see a redcoat flick a lightswitch, and then the room was drenched in darkness.

Immediately, the voices of the people around them were silenced and there was a general rustling as people climbed into their beds. Alex squinted into the darkness to see Madison doing the same.

“What, so everyone’s just gonna go to sleep now?” Alex asked skeptically. Someone nearby shushed him harshly.

“That’s the idea,” Madison whispered back.

“So we’re just gonna all go to sleep the minute the redcoats tell us to, no resistance at all?” he was possibly getting too worked up over this small issue.

“Yes,” replied a voice he didn’t recognize a bit further down in the row of beds, sounding annoyed, “We are.”

“It’s just routine, Alex. Go to sleep,” Madison said placatingly.

Alex huffed, but laid down on his back and stared up blankly at the ceiling. He heard some rustling as John supposedly laid down as well. Were the prisoners here really so willing to subject themselves to such obvious brainwashing tactics, and to actually go along with the things the British said without a fight? He vowed to himself that he wouldn’t give in so easily. He’d keep fighting as long as he was here. As long as he was alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forget about her random husband, Theodosia is the British officer


End file.
